Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/49

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EUGENE LABICHE AND MARC MICHEL

quarter to ten in the evening and no wife! She'll have a hard time convincing me that it takes twelve hours and fifty-two minutes to get a pair of gloves... even to go after them, where they're made... I've hunted so much for her that I've a beastly headache. So, I put my feet into hot water, and send the maid to our relatives and friends ... Nobody has seen her! Ah, I forgot to inquire of Aunt Grosminet! Perhaps Anais is there! (Rings the bell, and calls.) Virginie, Virginie!

Virginie (Bringing the teakettle). — Here is the hot water, Sir!
Beauperthuis. — Very well, set it down... Listen!
Virginie (Sets kettle upon the floor). — Be careful, it is boiling hot!
Beauperthuis. — Do you remember how my wife was dressed, when she went out this morning?
Virginie. — In her new flounced gown, and her Leghorn hat.
Beauperthius. — Yes. (To himself.) A gift of the Baroness, ... her godmother... cost five hundred francs... at least! To go buying gloves in! (Pours in hot water, into foot-bath.) Strange!
Virginie. — It is quite unusual...
Beauperthuis. — My wife is visiting somewhere...
Virginie (Aside). — In the Bois, at Vincennes!
Beauperthuis. — You will go to Madame Grosminet.
Virginie. — At Gros-Caillon?
Beauperthuis. — I'm positive that she is there...
Virginie (Forgetting herself). — I'm sure she's not—
Beauperthuis. — Eh? What do you know— ?
Virginie (Quickly). — I, Sir, I know nothing. I said: "I do not think so... You've kept me running about for two whole hours... I can't go any farther, Sir. Gros-Caillon is more than a few steps from here...
Beauperthuis. — Well, then, take a cab (Handing her money). Here are three francs. Go on your way!
Virginie. — Yes, Sir. (Aside) I'll go and have tea with the flower maker, upstairs...
Beauperthuis (Seeing her). —Well?
Virginie. — I'm going! (Aside.) No matter! So long as I don't see that hat again — Ah, that would be funny! (Goes out.)
Beauperthuis (Alone). — My head is splitting! I should have put in some mustard. (Shouting angrily.) Anais! If I thought... there is no vengeance ... no punishment...